


Let Me

by stillbangtan



Category: GOT7
Genre: Abuse trigger, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jackson takes care of you, Past Relationship(s), You get triggered by thinking about the past and poor timing, You still have a bad self-image at times from your ex, past mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:10:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillbangtan/pseuds/stillbangtan
Summary: You and Jackson plan a weekend in together. Unforeseen, thoughts of a past relationship triggers you and your boyfriend gets a front-row seat. He's determined to make you feel worthy.





	Let Me

**Author's Note:**

> Abuse is something I write about a lot since I've seen it a lot - in friends, family, and myself. It shouldn't be romanticized or taken lightly, but I don't think writing about it is bad. A lot of people have never seen it up close, and a lot of people who've been abused don't realize they can still be affected even after getting out of whatever situation it might be. It's important to know that whatever trauma you experience, not everyone will be that way and you _are_ worthy of love, romantic and platonic. Whoever made you feel worthless was a fucking liar, okay?
> 
> That being said, if you think this can trigger you _at all_ , please don't read it! There's nothing physical, there aren't flashbacks, but it is talked about and there are a lot of snippets of unprompted self-hate because that's something that happens in a lot of mentally abusive relationships.
> 
> I would also like to note in case there is confusion that Jackson is NOT abusive and never will be in this! He's a soft puppy the whole time and just wants to love on MC and show her she is safe and she is loved.
> 
> Written for a dear friend.
> 
> Proceed with caution and stay safe out there, guys. ♡

"Hey, babe!" Jackson's high voice sounds through your speaker. You were currently sitting on your couch with a bag of chips on your lap, your latest binge on pause for your boyfriend. "I'm getting in my car now and I'll be home in about ten minutes, then shower and I'll be down. Do you want to wait and I'll go to the store with you?"

"No, it's fine," you say around a mouthful of chips. "I'm not a child; I can pick up groceries by myself."

"Excuse me for wanting to spend time with you!" he sarcastically replies. You can imagine his eyes getting wide with exasperation while he waves his hands in a dismissive manner.

You click your tongue. "What do you want, Jacky?" You didn't usually use that nickname on him, but sometimes if he was pouting or acting childish you would because he used to be so outraged by it.

"You've already got snacks right?" You look down at your lap where the mostly empty bag of chips lays surrounded by chip crumbs on your shorts. "You ate the chips didn't you." You nod and even though he can't see you he knows. He always knows. "Ahh, what about ice cream?" You think back to last night when you'd stayed awake all night watching the TV show you're currently watching. Food disappeared easily when you weren't paying attention. "How long have you even been watching that show?!" he calls accusingly. You flinch. He was probably right, you've been watching it for too long. God, and look at all the snacks you've eaten. How fucking disgusting- "Pay more attention to me," he whines cutely through the phone, interrupting your dangerous train of thought.

"Good thing you're staying the night tonight," you point out and grin at the thought. He'd stayed the night before but tonight he was here for the weekend. No work to interrupt your cuddles in the morning, no friends to interrupt a movie marathon or intrude on a date, no interruptions at all.

Before you get ahead of yourself, it's not much of a feat. He lived right upstairs in the same complex as you and your best friend had for the last year. It was kind of embarrassing to think about the fact that you'd only been dating for three months because both of you were oblivious to each others feelings for so long.

Jackson makes a cute noise through the phone. "Okay, okay. Before I get too excited and drive off this bridge." You know exactly what he means. Sometimes when he gets too happy or excited he can't help but squeeze his eyes shut while he grins and scrunches his nose. It's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen. "We need stuff for dinner. You can pick, as long as it's not spicy. Oh, and more snacks! Lots of them so we can both eat ourselves to death while cuddling on the couch with cute movies. I mean action movies. I'm a man."

"It's okay, Jackson. I know you only watch the cute movies because I love them _soo_ much," you tease. "That's why tonight I'm going to change it. Since you're such a man, and I love horror movies just as much as those cute ones, I want to watch-"

"Hey, hey, hey! I never said I don't like the cute movies you watch. I like everything you like," he cuts you off, you're sure with a sentence he thinks is smart.

"Everything? So you'll watch-"

"Damn it, y/n, don't put me in a corner here."

You laugh and lean against the arm of the couch, eyes focused on your screen where his face is currently displayed. You smile at the memory of the first time he tried to play that card. He'd gotten stuck watching a scary movie with you and at the beginning talked so much about how he would hold you and protect you from the scary things. By the end of it, his face was buried in your lap and he'd even jumped and screamed when you put your hand on his back to comfort him.

"I'm definitely going to put a scary one on. It's about a guy who tries to kill a girl by throwing her in the ocean but she doesn't die and loses all her memories so she doesn't even know when he comes and takes her back to his house that she's living with the man who got her in that mess to begin with."

"That's not even scary!" he defends. "Are you getting ready to go to the store? I'm almost home if you just want to wait a half hour to leave."

"No, no. I'll be quick. Drive safe and see you soon!"

"You drive safe too. Bye babe!"

The call ends and you sigh as you look at the crumbs on your lap again. You stand and brush them to the floor. _I should probably vacuum soon_ , you think when you glance around at the carpet. There were crumbs from various things you'd eaten at the couch instead of the table over the last week. 

Deciding to shop first you change into appropriate public wear and jog down to your car. You'd probably get stuck parking in the parking garage when you got back since the only people who got a spot in the parking lot were people who got home before 5 o'clock or people who happened to get there after someone else left around that time.

It really felt like it'd been longer than three months since you'd started dating Jackson, but maybe that was because of how long it took you guys to confess, or how many times you'd almost said "I love you" to him. You probably did love him, but damn it you had commitment issues. Well, more like abandonment issues. The last and only guy you said "I love you" to... Well, you didn't talk about him. He was something in the past, a bad experience, but the meek person he'd reverted you to still lingered in the back of your mind. You weren't sure how much of it was just a trained reaction and how much of it you still believed.

At the store, you pick up chicken and a large bag of potatoes. You'd seen a delicious recipe online recently and really wanted to try it with him. You didn't have most of the ingredients because it had been a bit longer than you'd care to acknowledge since you'd gone grocery shopping. Unfortunately, this wasn't a good remedy for that since you were now filling your cart with chips and cookies and ice cream. You even got two cases of soda and a few different Kool-aids. This would definitely be good for binge nights in the upcoming weeks and it gave your boyfriend plenty to choose from tonight.

_Boyfriend... Yeah. That's nice_ , you think as you push your cart to the checkout. Three months and it was still as surreal as it was familiar.

When you're near the complex, you call your roommate and best friend. You'd moved into the apartment together and immediately run into your soon-to-be complex buddies youngest friend, Yugyeom, who promptly invited the pair of you to hang out at the pool with him and his friends. It was while you were soaked and still in your regular clothes because your friend had insisted you not waste time finding your swimwear because it was _hot_ that you met Jackson. He came down in a tank-top and swim trunks, a backwards cap and sunglasses. He was fit as fuck, walking towards the bunch of you with an anxious Mark trailing behind him. He also seemed confident, as he stripped off everything but the shorts - what a sight that would have otherwise been - and jumped into the pool right by you. Oh, and incredibly welcoming as he surfaced, turned to you with a blank expression, and immediately dunked you.

"Yo, yo, yo, it's reading hour I hope this is worth it!" Your friend says in place of a greeting. You hear Jinyoung in the background scolding her for not turning her phone off for the allotted hour to which she says something about forgetting. That was probably true. Most times she forgot to turn her phone _on_.

"I'm almost back to the apartment. Can you come help me with groceries?"

"Girl, you got it!" she cheers, and you hear a soda can pop open.

"Ugh, pleeeeease? I got two cases of soda and a lot of junk food. I'm trying to hurry up and get it done so I can clean up a bit before Jackson comes down."

It's quiet for a few seconds. "The shower's still running. You've got time."

"Dude, please don't make me make two trips. How could you let that happen?" you try, knowing how passionate she is about making one trip for everything. It'd put her in some amusing predicaments several times before.

"Okay, first of all, it's not my fault. Maybe you should grow some muscles or arms or something. Second of all, I'm already in for it after reading hour for answering this phone call. If I walk out, he's gonna pun-" she pauses, as if she really just saved herself from being found out. "Jinyoung will kill me."

"Right, because we don't all already know what you guys do when you're alone. Or like I've never caught you sneaking out at night to go up there." You pull up to the gate where you have to stop while the gate acknowledges the magnetic keycard hanging from your rear-view. It slowly creaks open. "Look, I'll even pull up right in front of our elevator so you won't have to go far."

Finally, she relents with a groan. "Oh my god, _fine_. But I swear I'm not carrying more than half."

As promised you drive as close as possible to the elevator nearest your apartment and turn the car off, pushing the hazard button. She's there by the time you start to open the trunk, arms crossed and positively peeved. She has a large sweater on and you immediately spot a hickey on her collarbone where the sweater had sagged. Come to think of it, you're _certain_ you've seen Jinyoung wear it before. And it obviously doesn't fit in with the hot weather outside, or the shorts she's wearing.

"What?" she asks defensively. She tugs the sweater up to cover the spot. "It's cold in their apartment."

"Okay." You shrug. In truth, you didn't understand why they didn't want to just say they were fucking, or dating, but it was their choice and you weren't going to fight it. Tease, maybe. But right now there are groceries in need of carrying.

Your roommate immediately starts hanging bags on her right arm, barely leaving any for you. Stoically, with 3/4's of the bags on her arm and a case of soda tucked against her other side, she treks to the elevator.

"Why do you always do this!" you yell. "This is probably why your back always hurts!"

"I can assure you that is _not_ the reason!" she calls back.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. She's really throwing herself under the bus. It takes you approximately seven minutes to get the groceries to your second floor apartment, go back down and find a parking spot for your car which was, as expected, in the parking garage on the third floor, and then run down the stairs and across the lot back to the elevator. It was a workout, to say the least. Along the way you also found your spot had indeed been taken, and by Jackson of all people.

"Hey, babe!" Jackson greets in the same bright and happy tone he always does when you step into your apartment. Apparently seven minutes was enough time for him to get out of the shower and dressed.

You leave the bags on the counter and turn to him. "Hi," you say warmly and step into his open arms. When you pull away you make sure to run your hands down his exposed arms. They were one of your favorite things about him for many reasons, but mostly because despite him being muscular he knew how to be gentle with you and hold you tightly so you felt safe but not suffocated, physically and metaphorically.

He kisses your nose before letting go of you entirely and wandering to the groceries on the kitchen counter. You follow closely behind, pulling out a casserole dish and two pots for the dinner tonight.

"Will you peel the potatoes?" you ask as you pull the package of chicken breasts out of the plastic bag. You turn the oven to the appropriate temperature to preheat it then tear open the package. The last time you had an actual meal like this was a few weeks back, that time with Jackson as well.

He happily obliges, finding the peeler in the drawer of assorted utensils. You're nearly finished preparing your half, tearing open a powdered dressing packet, when Jackson yells. If you'd been holding the casserole dish at that moment you would have dropped it from how violently you shook in surprise and concern. As it was, half of the packet's contents spilled out onto your hand and the floor directly below.

"Jackson?" you ask, immediately beside him and trying to look at the hand he cradles to his abdomen. "Jackson are you hurt?" You reach out for his hand, taking his wrist tenderly in your grasp to pull it toward you.

"I didn't get blood on the potatoes," he immediately says, and when you look at his eyes you can see the worry there.

"I won't care. We have plenty of potatoes. You only have ten fingers." When you've finished speaking, you glance back down and turn his hand over in yours. There's a cut on each of the tips of his fingers where he'd evidently had his fingers wrapped too far around the potato whilst peeling. You tut and pull him to the sink to run water over the cuts. They weren't bad, but there was a bit of blood. "Okay just make sure you don't have potato or something in them and I'll be right back."

He pouts at you but you walk away before he says anything. You return a moment later, box of band-aids in hand. You're silent and focused as you apply a dab of Neosporin to each fingertip and then wrap a band-aid around it. When you're finished, you curl your hand around his. "Just sit down at the bar and wait. It won't take long," you promise as you walk him over to one of the stools.

"I'm so useless now," he whines, shoulders sagging. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to him when you try to walk away. "I can cut them," he offers, disappointment still evident in his voice when he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

"Jackson," you prompt, putting your hands on his cheeks to lift his gaze to your own. "The peeler was fine because you still have fingertips after a slip-up. Knives are not as forgiving." Leaving no room for arguing, you plant a soft kiss on his lips then release his face and walk back into the kitchen. He's sitting directly on the other side of the counter you're working at now, his elbow propped up so his chin can rest on his uninjured hand.

"You're so cute," he compliments quietly and then makes the face you were all too familiar with, the one you could picture vividly even just hearing the sound that usually accompanies it. Your heart lurches at the sight of his scrunched face and wide smile, the lower half of his face partially hidden behind his palm now. Even after so long of watching him do that in response to you, longer than you'd been dating, it still made you swoon internally. After your ex, it was hard to imagine anyone could adore you so much. "Look, I'm a man, okay? I'll take care of you when you inevitably hurt yourself again. But I love that you care so much, and you look so cute making dinner and double checking everything and that look of concentration you get... I love you." He says it so dreamily that if it didn't paralyze you every time he said it you might have said it back this time.

The paralyzed feeling wasn't bad, per se. You were shocked every time. He said it so easily, knowing you weren't going to say it back, but it didn't deter him. Your ex... Well, it wasn't pretty if you didn't say it back. You suppose that's what happened. You were scared and coerced into saying it the first time, and you guess you just said it so many times you started to believe it. That's a thing, you know. If you lie to yourself enough it's possible to believe the lie. Like all the times you told yourself that he really loved you, or that he would change like he always promised, or when you told yourself you would leave if he didn't make good on that promise.

You didn't leave.

It was terrible timing, really, to think about him and your current boyfriend, the one who looked at you and without saying a word you knew he loved you. Even if you had trouble believing it, you knew. Now Jackson is rummaging through the bags closest to him, scooting the contents around in search of something. In search of _what_ , though? It's there right? You got everything? Why is he still looking, it can't be that hard to find-

"Where's my chocolate?" he asks finally, eyebrows raised and head tilted. Your expression was already one of concern and unease, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Your eyes weren't focused on anything, too lost in thought about a horrible person from your past. When Jackson speaks, there's no malice in it but you swear there is, it's hiding somewhere or coming- Jackson gasps incredulously. "Y/N! Did you forget my chocolate? I can tell by the look on your face!"

"I- I..." Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes finally focus on him, on that face that you swear is looking at you without love and too close to a face that wrecked you on a spiritual level. You look away before you can see his expression change, scanning over the bags quickly. You did. You forgot the chocolate. So stupid, so fucking stupid, you were at the store why didn't you- God you're pathetic. You can't even remember a candy bar? You've known for an entire year it was his favorite.

"Woah, woah, Y/N, baby," Jackson's voice interrupts your mental berating. He's pushing up on the counter to skip the walk around the corner to you and hold you over the counter, but all you see is he's coming at you again, his eyes are angry, he's so fucking angry-

"I'm so sorry," you whimper pleadingly. You shake your head and back away, body tense in case this time is the time he finally snaps and hits you, it's been a long time coming- "I'm so sorry," you say again as hot tears roll down your cheeks. They feel cold on your burning cheeks, red with shame for failing such a simple task. "O-oh! My wallet!" you exclaim and run to where you'd dropped your bag at the front door. You drop to your knees immediately and tear through it. "I have the money, I'll give you the money for it." Fucking stupid, sure give him money. That doesn't bring the chocolate here, does it? It's at the store. "A-actually, that's stupid, I'll just-" You search around for your keys. "-just drive to the store real quick. I'll be quick, I-" Time is sensitive and vital right now. If you do something to make up for it soon enough it won't be as bad, he'll forget it sooner, he'll call you less names, he won't threaten you or your family-

"Y/N," Jackson's voice sounds behind you. It's gentle and it freezes you from your toes to the tips of your fingers to the top of your head. _Don't trust the soft tone_. You hear him move down to his knees behind you and become vaguely aware that you're shaking. _Stop shaking, it'll make it worse, he'll be mad at that too because you make him seem like the bad guy_ -

Jackson's arms wrap around your entire body. "Baby," he says so quietly you barely hear it. You stop shaking and you swear your heart stops beating. He's going to do it, he's going to snap your fucking neck like he always said- "We can go to the store to get some chocolate." He doesn't move at all. His hands stay locked together around you, his cheek is against the back of your neck. He's completely still, just holding you and keeping you in this moment. "It's just some stupid chocolate anyway, isn't it? I don't need it. I don't need anything like I need you."

He leans his head up slowly, gauging when it's safe to move. He unclasps his hands and frees you from his embrace before placing his hands on your shoulders and urging you to turn to face him. You slowly do, mostly out of fear of what would happen if you didn't. When you're facing him, he puts a finger under your chin to lift your head. One glance at your face and he's pulling you against his chest with a soft "c'mere," strong arms wrapping around you again, one hand on your upper back, the other caging your head against his chest where you hear his heart thundering inside.

You're still in flight mode though. There's a reason behind this, isn't there? Where's the yelling? The name calling? The threats?

"Baby, I mean it. You're all I need, okay? Let's forget about the chocolate. We can get it the next time we're at the store. I'll split it in half with you, too. I love you so much that even if it was my last one I would give you the entire thing. I love you so much that if you really wanted me to give it up, I would call you crazy but I'd kiss you and every couple of days beg you to let me eat it again."

You sniffle and lift your head up, your hands finding purchase on his biceps. Biceps that used the right amount of strength to cradle you against him in your favorite hugs, the only cuddles you want to feel for the rest of your life. You look into his face and you see him there again. You see Jackson. It's his voice pulling you out of it, his loving eyes staring into yours. "Jackson..." Your lip quivers again with the threat of oncoming tears.

"Oh, _baby_." You hear the ache in his voice, in his heart, when he says it. He pulls you against him again and puts his mouth against the top of your head in a gentle kiss. "Baby, you're breaking my heart." He slowly starts to rock back and forth and slowly you start to cry. Not because you're scared this time, but in relief and some amount of sadness.

"Jackson," you cry. "Jackson I'm so sorry." Your face scrunches up as sobs tear themselves from your chest to your throat. Your face is quickly soaked, like the material of Jackson's shirt where your cheek meets it. He holds you like that, you don't know how long. You're sure you cried for at least ten minutes, him just holding you and running his fingers through your hair. He never shushed you, never told you to stop crying. He just rocked you and comforted you like you were a scared child. In some ways, you were. That was what memories of your ex did to you at times.

"You don't have to apologize at all. I was so scared for you. I just..." He gently bunches up some of your hair, twisting it before letting it fall into place. "You can talk to me, you know that right?" You sniffle again, sitting still a few moments while you find the courage to nod your head. Yes, he wasn't your ex. You could talk to him. You were a human being just like him. Not a pet, or some slave. "Oh, baby." He started rocking the pair of you back and forth again. "Hey, can we get up? Is that okay?" He sounded so unsure of himself but determined to make sure you were safe and knew you were safe. You lean away and nod again and he stands up, your hands in his to lift you by.

He doesn't say anything as he leads you down the hall, past the kitchen to the door at the very end. He turns the bathroom light on and pulls you in to stand in front of him. He takes extra care to push the door closed gently, turning the knob as he does so the only sound it makes is the soft tap when it first touches the frame. He quickly turns the handles on the tub, waiting barely a moment before plugging the drain and standing in front of you again. He moves your hair off of your shoulders, fingers draping over the backs of them as he drags his thumb along your collarbone. His touch is so soft you think you've never been touched like that since you were a newborn under the loving touch of your mother's gentle reminder that she was still there, that there was no reason to cry because you weren't alone.

He slowly moves his hand to your shoulder and down to your elbow where his other hand joins, both working in tandem to rub small circles over your arms til he reaches your hand. He pulls it towards him and turns it over so he can lean down slightly and place a soft kiss in the palm of your hand, yours to keep and to hold on to for as long as you like. He lowers your hand back to your side and from there slides his hands over to the hem of your shirt. The entire moment is slow, all careful and loving. He pulls it over your head with you assisting by raising your arms. He drops it to the floor and leans in to kiss your cheek. The air around you is cold but you find a small reprieve when he leans closer. With his lips on you, he reaches between your bodies and unbuttons and unzips your jeans. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband and when he detaches his lips from your cheek he leans down as he pulls them down, caressing the back of one calf down to your foot when you step out of them. Then, he moves to the other leg, starting with the foot after you step out of them. He leaves the pants in a pile with your shirt and slowly comes to stand in front of you again, caressing your other leg on the way up.

"I love you," he states, eyes boring into yours. You don't respond, just wait for his next move. "All of you." He lifts his hands to cup your cheeks before leaning forward to place his lips on yours. You respond easily, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. You knew how you felt about him - he did too. It was just a matter of finding the courage to tell him. His hands travel down the sides of your neck, down to your shoulders and under your arms, and finally back to where your bra is hooked. He unhooks it as slowly as he kisses you.

You feel like you've forgotten how to breathe when he pulls the straps down your shoulders, down to your elbows, and finally off of you completely, again to be discarded by your feet. There's nothing sexual about the interaction but it is completely intimate and you swear despite how still you stand, waiting for his thumbs to hook into the top of the last of the fabric covering you, you're falling. Falling for him, falling in love, falling out of a pit of despair. All it takes is his voice, or his brown eyes staring at you with so much love you wonder if it's possible to love anyone so completely again.

When you're completely bare you feel nervous. You know it's not sexual, nothing about it is, but you've never been this naked for him, physically and metaphorically. He'd never witnessed the damage from your last relationship. Each article of clothing was a weight on your body and your soul and you feel so free and open.

Jackson holds both of your hands in his, resting peacefully at your sides as he leans in to plant a lingering peck against your lips, and when he pulls away he leads you to the tub. He leans down quickly to test that the water temperature is good then stands back up, one of your hands still in his. "Okay, baby. Step in now."

The tub is mostly full by the time you step in, hitting just below your knees. You sink down slowly and shiver as the warm water envelops and heats every inch of skin it touches.

Jackson is all murmurs and butterfly touches when he helps you bathe, never once losing contact with you. Your hair softens under the shampoo the way your features do under his attention. The tears that made your eyes and cheeks stiff and swollen are washed away by the water. He's sat on the floor beside the tub, one leg stretched straight out while his other knee is pulled close to his chest. He has one arm on the edge of the tub and rests his chin on his bicep, that hand lightly gripping the edge. His other hand is submerged in the water where he still holds your own hand and when he smiles at you again, lips closed and so serene, so do you.

It's hard to talk about and he's quick to tell you don't force it, that he doesn't need an explanation, but you still try. You tell him about how your ex would belittle you for everything, everything was your fault. He kept you from your family and friends and even made you quit your job because he couldn't make sure you weren't talking to other men there. He threatened yours and your family's safety on several occasions because of situations he'd conjured up in his own mind several times. He made the simplest mistakes into entire ordeals, always so angry you really wondered every time when he would snap and finally carry out those threats. It was terrifying and the smallest you'd ever felt. It was hard to get out of though, because you'd never been in a real relationship and he swore he loved you, swore he said those things because he cared, and sometimes he would even apologize, but 'you did this. Don't make me a bad guy just because I'm telling you.'

You even told him about your pathetic attempts at consoling yourself, that you knew it wasn't as bad as it could be and you would get out if he was actually harming you. It's hard to remember harm doesn't always leave physical marks.

"Hey," he says suddenly and you realize you had zoned out, eyes unfocused somewhere in the direction of the faucet. "It's not pathetic. You didn't know and he was a terrible person. You didn't even know you were scared because he knew the right things to say. Look, I'm not a professional, but I do know that verbally and mentally abusive people have enough charisma to hook you and then trap you so you can't see until you're out of it that... That it was nothing like it seemed at the time. You're not pathetic, and it's really brave of you to tell me this." His grip on your hand tightens.

"I love you," you say suddenly. The words hadn't been in your head at all, you didn't even know you would say them until they were out there, but the feeling was in your heart. When he smiles in excitement at finally hearing you say it to him, you realize it'd been there a long time. Not as long as you'd known him, but not too short of that.

Jackson tries to contain a squeal and squeezes your hand, shaking it in the water before the excitement is too much and he immediately pushes himself onto his knees. He doesn't seem to care when his shirt gets soaked through as he pulls you against him, rapidly leaning side to side and yelling. Though you can't see it, you can perfectly imagine his wide smile. Slowly, your wide eyes close and your parted lips relax into a smile.

* * *

"This is the scary movie?" Jackson asks. You hear the apprehension in his voice, fingers tightening in yours a little more. You nod wordlessly. He swallows and moves his arm that rests under your neck down so he can reach your empty hand, knotting those two together as well.

Though there had been nearly an hour extension in prep time due to your impromptu bath, the dinner you prepared was still delicious. No thanks to Jackson. Honestly, he wanted to help, but you couldn't stop picturing him holding the knife, cutting the potatoes at the wrong angle... getting excited about something and spinning around with his arms flailing... No. Just no.

Now, the pair of you were cuddled together on the couch, legs stuck out to one end. A pillow lay under his head as a prop so he could see the TV past your head.

"Okay," he says and tries to shrug nonchalantly, but the shake in his voice is evident and you both know it. "I'm a man," he tries again, convincing no one.

So maybe you tricked him, stretched the truth a little, lied about the supposed horror aspect of the film. You stay quiet still, a sly grin forming as you watch the title flash across the screen in big letters: "Overboard"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I gave adequate warning and didn't upset any of you :/ Jackson is a sweetie
> 
> Please don't comment to bash writing things of this nature. As I've already explained, things like this shouldn't be kept quiet. Trauma extends much further than abuse itself.


End file.
